


we will stumble through heaven

by KrisL



Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (2015)
Genre: All The Tropes, Alternate Universe - Actors, Alternate Universe - Hollywood, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M, This is so silly I can't even, halsey lyrics, very patchy knowledge of the film industry
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-03
Updated: 2015-11-06
Packaged: 2018-04-24 16:00:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 4,408
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4925968
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KrisL/pseuds/KrisL
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hollywood, present day. Napoleon Solo is the scion of the Solo acting dynasty. Illya Kuryakin is a stuntman-turned-actor. This is what happens when they are cast opposite each other in a spy film.</p><p>[Written for this prompt from kinkfromuncle: http://kinkfromuncle.dreamwidth.org/640.html?thread=327296#cmt327296</p><p>  <i>Illya/Napoleon - Actors AU</i></p><p>  <i>Come on guys. Illya and Napoleon are lead actors in a film (action film maybe. action spy film for all of the meta points) and hate each other. They come from different places, have had totally different careers: maybe Illya worked his way from stuntman to star, while Napoleon comes from Hollywood royalty and is considered the hot new thing. </i></p><p>  <i>Every time they call cut, they're at each others throats. So why can't they get through a single scene without their characters looking like they'really about to kiss?</i></p><p><i>Time period totally up the author.</i>]</p><p>
  <b>WIP</b>
</p><p>Tumblr reblog: http://eastwssh.tumblr.com/post/130442547122/stumblethroughheaven</p><p>8tracks playlist/fanmix: http://8tracks.com/kris___l/we-will-stumble-through-heaven-napollya</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. i'm the king of everything

“Hey Napoleon!” came a shout from across the street.

Napoleon glanced over, sunglasses firmly on the bridge of his nose. It was no one he knew. He continued striding, eager to get to the gym before the lunch crowd. But he had hardly taken a few more steps before another shout of “Hey Napoleon, look over here! Give us a smile, Napoleon!” 

It was a paparazzo, his DSLR going off every few seconds. Napoleon shot him a glare from beneath his sunglasses (not that he would see). Fine then. Give them what they want, or he’d be dogged by shouts all the way to his gym. A small price to pay for his hordes of fawning fans and a lifetime in the lap of luxury.  
  
Napoleon began stripping off the ‘Catch Me If You Can’ T-shirt he was wearing, heedless of the pedestrians milling about. Let’s just see what the headlines would be this time. The ‘Hollywood Royalty’ angle was getting a bit old for Napoleon. Perhaps it was time for ‘You will never believe what Napoleon Solo did in the middle of a busy LA street!  **HOT**  exclusive pictures inside!!’ Napoleon smirked to himself. Victoria would get an aneurysm from the PR fallout.  
  
A woman in front of Napoleon made a surprised ‘O’ with her mouth, and hastily put her hands over the eyes of her young daughter. Huh, what was so bad about abs, Napoleon thought, you would think the City of Angels was more liberal than this. It wasn’t until he got to the gym changing room that he realised his jeans were just a little  _too_  low slung.  
  
After an hour at the gym and a shower, Napoleon checked his phone to find 8 missed calls from his agent Victoria Vinciguerra. Well that was fast. Maybe someone put the pictures up on Twitter.  
  
As he was checking for texts, Victoria called again. Napoleon picked up on the first ring - “Ah, my favourite agent, Victoria. I am so sorry - I swear I did it because it was way too hot.”  
  
“What have you done, Napoleon,” Victoria’s tone could freeze water.  
  
Not about that, then. Oops. “Oh, nothing. Nothing at all. What news, Victoria?”  
  
“We’ll talk about  _that_  later. I’m calling to tell you, you huge dork, you got the part in the latest Waverly film!”  
  
“Awesome! Fantastic, um, agent-ing, Victoria. Remind me to talk to my dad for a raise for you.” Charm aside, Napoleon really was pleased with that particular job. It would be his breakout role for critical acclaim, he was sure of it. And with his good friend Michael by his side, the chemistry would be off-the-charts. Which reminds him to ask, “Who’s the other lead?”  
  
“Uhh, surprisingly, not who we thought it would be. I have his name here, it says: Ill-ya Kur-ya-kin.”  
  
“Huh.”  
  
“‘Huh’ is right. I thought Michael was a shoo-in for the role after how he read with you. I’m just pulling up this Kuryakin’s IMDB - it says the only film he’s done as an actor is… a straight-to-TV fairy tale movie… called ‘Apple’.”  
  
Now Napoleon’s tone was bitter, “Never pegged Waverly as a gambling man. Talk to you later, Victoria. Thanks for the call.” Wasn’t that just great. He’d planned out exactly how he’d approach the Hank William character with Michael opposite him as Douglas Edgar and he had been looking forward to discussing all his ideas with Michael over their lunch appointment the next day.  
  
And now, some upstart usurps Michael’s rightful place. To think that Napoleon had been eyeing an Oscar nomination.  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from Halsey's 'Young God'.
> 
>  
> 
> Notes:
> 
> 1\. The paparazzo part inspired by a gif on Tumblr of 'The Man from U.N.C.L.E.' (TMFU) actors. The gif is a cute moment but it makes me think about the less savory aspects of the nature of celebrity. A commoditized existence.
> 
> 2\. Napoleon's T-shirt is a reference to the Leonardo DiCaprio movie 'Catch Me If You Can' and to Napoleon's background as a thief in TMFU. I do not actually know if such shirts exist but I'm assuming Napoleon would have the means to customise any shirt he wants.
> 
> 3\. No prizes for guessing which real-life actor 'Michael' is supposed to be. Kudos to whoever can identify the piece(s) of trivia that partially influenced my choice of 'Michael'.
> 
> 4\. Kudos to whoever can identify how I derived the names of the movie characters Napoleon and Illya are playing.


	2. i'm headed straight for the castle

Illya Kuryakin was waiting for a call.

He was 90% sure he would not get it, because he’d heard the names of some of his competition. He hadn’t even been at the main audition because of a communication error by his agent Oleg, meaning he hadn’t gotten to meet his potential co-stars, much less read for chemistry.

That had been the last straw with his agent. He was so incensed by that amateur mistake, which to his mind had pretty much obliterated his chances of scoring a role on the film, that he fired Oleg the next time they met in Oleg’s dingy one-room office. It wasn’t as if he could afford an agent any longer, with the way things were going.   
  
Things had been fine, the work dangerous but steady and rewarding, until a year earlier, when Illya had broken his right ankle while on the job as a stuntman. It wasn’t a clean break, and the subsequent long recovery meant he couldn’t take on any more stunt roles for quite a while. Which was how he had come to be cast as Prince Armand in a B-movie called ‘Apple’. All they had needed was a pretty face, and they didn’t care how numbed up with painkillers he had been.  
  
When his performance was universally panned by the critics for being too “wooden”, he thought he could shrug it off and try to find more bit parts to pay the rent, but the film had tanked so badly on the DVD rentals market that his net worth was practically $0. He discovered that when your only reviews said things like “this stuntman is getting too big for his britches if he thinks he can magically transform into a Hollywood prince”, you could as good as kiss an acting career goodbye.  
  
Except, somehow, he’d bagged an audition from an open-minded director named Alex Waverly. The word on the LA streets was that he didn’t care about your previous filmography, all he cared about was what he saw in the audition room.  
  
And that was how Illya found himself sitting in his closet-sized studio, waiting for a call from Waverly.  
  
At 12:36 pm on a Wednesday afternoon, Illya’s phone rang for the first time in days. He answered immediately and was greeted by a cultured British voice saying, “This is Alex Waverly, may I speak to Illya Kuryakin?”   
  
“Speaking.” Illya could hardly trust his voice.  
  
“Hello, Illya, I’m calling you about the part of Douglas Edgar. Congratulations on your stellar audition, I would like you to take up the role.”  
  
“Uh… well…” Illya was lost for words.   
  
“Is there a problem, Illya? We can discuss scheduling if you have other commitments.” Waverly’s voice was patient.  
  
“No, no problem, Mr Waverly, just… I’m surprised, that’s all.”  
  
“No need to be surprised, Illya, you did well. And call me Alex, please. My PA will email you details and, if you choose to take the role, your agent can come in next week to discuss your contract. I look forward to working with you, Illya. You’re one of a kind.”  
  
With that, Waverly hung up with a ‘click’. Illya couldn’t stop himself from grinning the whole day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from Halsey's 'Castle'.
> 
> Notes:  
> 1\. 'Apple' is a reference to 'Mirror Mirror', which as far as I know is _not_ a B-movie or made-for-television. It was just convenient to have 'Apple' be as such for characterisation. Anything else related to the fictional 'Apple' is fiction.


	3. if there's a light at the end, it's just the sun in your eyes

Victoria Vinciguerra wasn’t entirely surprised that Illya Kuryakin turned up to his own contract negotiation rather than send his agent. What she was surprised about was that despite his lack of credentials, he was able to hold his own in driving a hard bargain.

She  _was_  one of the best in the business, or else she wouldn’t be working for  _the_  Napoleon Solo of the Solo acting dynasty. But Illya managed to wrangle equal billing with Napoleon on the title card, and she only agreed to it because she knew Napoleon really valued the role. She was willing to bet Illya had negotiated a princely salary as well.

She called Napoleon as he was heading into the gym. This role required for his physique to be even more chiseled than usual.

“Yes, dear Victoria?”

“Work hard, Solo. And a word of advice: Do not underestimate Illya Kuryakin.”

With that, Victoria hung up. Huh, Napoleon thought, she never calls me Solo unless she’s being stone-cold serious. 

 

* * *

  
The first read-through was an unparalleled disaster.

Napoleon had resolved not to like a rookie who had stolen his good friend’s role. Illya had resolved not to be intimidated by Hollywood Royalty like Napoleon Solo.

Still, Napoleon had in mind the movie’s prospects and good buzz among the critics from the screenplay, and he wasn’t about to turn off his habitual charm. He pasted a smile on his face, stuck out his hand to the Russian, and said cheerily, “Howdy, partner-in-crime. The name’s Napoleon Solo.”

He did not expect to be met with five seconds of silent staring. All the while his mind conjured up panicked thoughts of ‘he hates you already’ and ‘this is going to be just like that Army flick where everyone thought you were only there as somebody’s spawn’.

And Napoleon Solo seriously considered walking out of the room then and there. But that would only cement his very undeserved diva status. So he grit his teeth, withdrew his hand, and turned away.

He was almost out of earshot when he heard a chuckled, “Cowboy.”

But besides the vitriolic hate he thought he felt emanating from Illya, was the realisation that - oh no, Illya was an absolute looker. He towered over Napoleon (perfect for kissing), his face was a chiseled work of art, and those baby blues could melt the hardest of hearts.

So not only did Napoleon have to work with someone who despised him, he would have to nurse an unrequited attraction at the same time.

 

* * *

  
Illya had heard so much about Napoleon Solo. He had seen practically his whole filmography from his high-octane ‘Delivery’ series to a range of frankly mediocre rom-coms. But meeting him in person was like a bolt of lightning. The curl of his fringe, the way his suit moulded to his body, that cleft chin - it was better than in the movies.

Which explained why he was stuck staring at Napoleon for probably a whole minute, before he thought to return the greeting. Even then, what came out of his mouth was an entirely inappropriate nickname that made zero sense. But Napoleon was already walking away, probably dismissive of an _amateur_ like Illya. Those rumours about Napoleon being a pain to work with were probably true.

 

* * *

  
Waverly was explaining his overarching conceptualisation of the movie, but Napoleon could hardly pay attention. He kept sneaking glances at Illya’s impassive visage, imagining the worst case scenarios working with an actor who didn’t take him seriously. The only words he heard from Waverly’s briefing were “Napoleon and Illya, be mentally prepared that a lot of the action scenes between you two will require close physical contact.”

During the actual read-through, Napoleon was feeling entirely too self-conscious, second-guessing the creative choices he had made while practicing alone. He was too ham-fisted in some scenes and too flat in others. Illya, by contrast, had memorised his lines and was delivering them verbatim.

But there was an acute lack of connection between the two leads, when this was supposed to be a spy film heavy on characterisation and the exploration of a close-knit relationship of trust and co-dependence between two partner agents.

Waverly’s lips were pursed throughout, but he let them carry on till the end. 

He took Napoleon and Illya aside and said, “Napoleon, Illya, the two of you are extremely talented actors. But you have to work  _with_  each other, not  _against_  each other. I took a chance casting the both of you when I hadn’t seen you two interact. Don’t prove me wrong and I hope I don’t have to tell you twice. Go get a coffee together or something.”

 

* * *

  
Napoleon was about to leave for the carpark with Victoria at his side, when Illya, approached, looking uncharacteristically hesitant.

“Napoleon, can I have a word?”

“Ah, the Red Peril deigns to speak to me. What an honour.” When under threat, Napoleon tended to turn to cutting remarks as his first line of defence.

Illya looked wounded, but carried on nevertheless, “Cowboy, I know this hasn’t been a good day for you.”

Napoleon was boiling over at his inability to perform that afternoon, and lashed out with, “Oh yeah? I think it has been a brilliant day for you. I bet you can’t wait to see me kicked off this production.”

Without waiting for Illya to reply, he stormed off to his Jaguar, Victoria’s heels clicking along beside him.

“I can’t work with this guy, Victoria. I don’t know what I’m going to do.”

“I’m your agent, not your relationship advisor. You’ll figure it out - you always do. And please, Napoleon, I know you’re not an idiot so don’t act like one. If you keep calling him ‘Red Peril’, you’ll either find yourself the subject of an unsavory tabloid write-up on xenophobia or you'll cause a diplomatic incident sooner or later. Especially with international tensions as they are. We might as well be in a second Cold War.”

“ _He_  should stop calling me ' **cowboy** ' unless he wants to be ridden,” Napoleon quipped, his words dripping with acid.

“Is that your way of asking me to clear your schedule for a romantic weekend getaway?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from Halsey's 'Young God'.
> 
>    
>  Notes:
> 
> 1\. In my headcanon for this 'verse, Victoria has Elizabeth Debicki’s press interviews haircut. Just thought you should know.
> 
> 2\. I imagine the title card to be somewhat like this, which is like in 'The Man from U.N.C.L.E.' (if memory serves):  
> ____________________________________________
>
>> > > > >   
> Illya Kuryakin
> 
> Napoleon Solo
> 
> ____________________________________________
> 
>  
> 
> Sorry about the crappy html skills.


	4. all we do is think about the feelings that we hide

They don’t get coffee together before the first day of shooting, which is on location in Rome. Truth is, Illya was waiting to get kicked off the production. A well-connected Hollywood darling like Napoleon Solo, surely for him to pull some strings and parachute a family friend into the role of Douglas Edgar was easy as cake.  
  
So it was with some surprise that Illya walked onto the set on the first day. His lines were all packed into his head, ready to be delivered with an American accent.  
  
“Hey Peril! Morning,” Napoleon was trying to be civil to Illya, because who knew where that good old Solo luck could take him by the end of the shoot. “Uh yeah, I’m going to call you ‘Peril’, rather than ‘ _Red_  Peril’, for the sake of my agent’s sanity,” said Napoleon, whispering as an aside, “she thinks we’re living in the  _Cold War_ where ‘red’ is a dirty word.” And he actually winked at Illya.  
  
For the second time, Illya was reduced to staring and saying one word in return, “Cowboy.” It came out gruffer than intended, and Napoleon looked quickly away.  


* * *

  
  
Day one wasn’t much of a problem because it was mostly solo shots before Hank and Douglas were paired together for the greater good of their international spy organisation, and the initial enmity between the agents as they thought they were competing for the top spot was easy to slide into for Napoleon and Illya. Or so they thought.  
  
They were doing a scene where Hank and Douglas face off, staring into each other’s eyes with the hatred of a thousand burning suns, and Waverly had told them to really go for it and act their hearts out, because statically staring at one another could only be so dramatic when captured on film.  
  
But for some strange reason, Waverly was requesting a lot of takes on this one simple shot.  
  
After several frustrating shots in which Napoleon thought his eyes would explode if he stared any harder, Waverly called cut and said, “Boys, as much as I like a little ‘ho yay’ in my movies, this part really needs to be  **mortal enemies** , not  _star-crossed lovers_. If this gets any worse, I’ll have to ask for an overhaul of the script. Which benefits neither of you, since the script is a key reason why you joined this production!”  
  
Napoleon glanced over at Illya and saw that he had an endearingly-confused expression on his face, which merely added to the appeal.  
  
Ah well, this called for some _unorthodox_ method acting. Napoleon walked over to Illya, who was now staring off into the middle distance, and landed a good solid punch in his solar plexus.   
  
It was almost painful to see Illya’s face crumple in surprise, then watch Illya’s eyes blaze and find Napoleon standing in front of him. But not as painful as landing on his back without knowing how he had gotten there as Illya tackled him to the ground with his sheer size. For a few seconds there was nothing but the ground beneath him and the heavy, immobilising weight of Illya on top of him, then the crew were pulling Illya off and checking the both of them over for injuries.  
  
Filming the ‘thousand burning suns’ scene was much easier after that.  


* * *

  
  
Napoleon was rubbing his back on his way to his rented car, mentally calculating when he would be able to schedule a visit to a masseuse  _and_  a physiotherapist, when Illya caught up to him, calling out, “Cowboy! I can help with that.”  
  
“Yeah, Peril? I think I need a professional to have it looked at, not some B-movie actor.”  
  
Illya bristled at the dig. “I was only offering my help, hotshot. I have experience with injuries.”  
  
“Do you tackle every actor you work with, then?”  
  
“Only the spoilt brats dumb enough to punch me first,” Illya’s words were cutting but his tone was controlled, and he continued, “I was a stuntman. I had to learn to heal myself. Now, I understand why you punched me, but just now, I reacted on instinct.”  
  
Napoleon gaped. Victoria hadn’t told him Illya had been a stuntman, but it did make sense. It explained the grace, the agility, the smooth play of his exposed muscles as he moved.  
  
Napoleon had been there for all of Illya’s solo scenes rather than resting in his trailer. At first he thought he should get a reference point as to Douglas’s characterisation, but he’d become so mesmerised by the way Illya handled his action scenes that he’d stayed for every one.  
  
Illya was still speaking, “That impulse of yours will get you killed one day. Ha - that time with the paparazzo - was funny. Those pictures got into every magazine, eventually.”  
  
Napoleon gaped some more. Illya had  _seen_  the pictures from his stunt of stripping off his top on a busy LA street.  
  
“Liked what you saw, Peril?” Napoleon’s tone was teasing, a feint more habitual than deliberate.  
  
“Maybe if it came with a better personality,” Illya retorted.   
  
Napoleon put his hand over his heart, furrowed his eyebrows, and said, “You wound me, in more ways than one.”  
  
“I’m serious, Cowboy, I’ll help you with the injury, just need to pick up some supplies on the way back to the hotel.”  
  
“Oh all right then, all in the name of camaraderie.”  
  
“I’m doing you a favour, Cowboy!”  
  
“I know, Peril, I know.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from Halsey's 'Drive'.
> 
> 1\. Rome is, obviously, a reference to the TMFU movie.
> 
> 2\. As you can see, the nicknames from the movie are kind of shoehorned in.
> 
> 3\. Couldn't resist a reference to the time period the TMFU movie is set in.


	5. i keep a close watch on this heart of mine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for one instance of explicit language in this chapter. I think the rule for movies is that one swear word does not warrant an above PG rating, so I haven't changed the rating.

Illya was right, much as Napoleon hated to admit it. Perhaps all he needed was a B-movie actor to rub his back in concentric circles as he lay face down on his hotel bed. Agile fingers loosened the knots accumulated over a hard day’s filming, keeping up a soothing rhythm.

Correction: a  _very talented_ B-movie actor.

Napoleon tried not to think about the bed dipping under Illya’s weight as he shifted to access various parts of Napoleon’s back, and what else they could be doing with that king-sized monstrosity of a bed. 

Illya was so talented, in fact, that Napoleon wasn’t even awake when Illya finished.

 

* * *

 

Napoleon woke to his morning alarm with only the slightest twinge in his back. Damn, he thought, last night had been a prime opportunity. He even had Illya literally on his bed.

And now, a friendly ‘thank you’ was the least he could do. Napoleon caught Illya as he was coming out of his trailer after make-up.

Napoleon’s voice was full of good cheer as he called out, “Thanks for last night, Peril. Shockingly rude of me to have fallen asleep in the middle of it. You’re very good with your hands.”

Yet, Illya was nowhere near as friendly as he was the day before. He glanced over Napoleon’s shoulder and glared daggers at Napoleon, only saying, “Quiet, Cowboy,” in a hushed voice.

Napoleon followed Illya’s gaze over his shoulder and came face-to-face with Waverly, who had apparently heard everything Napoleon had just said.

Waverly looked like he was trying to suppress a smile, greeting them, “Good morning boys, resolved your differences _amicably_ last night?”

His tone was odd, Napoleon thought, until he mentally reviewed what he himself had said thirty seconds ago. Which was terribly suggestive.

Waverly walked off in the direction of the set.

Napoleon looked back at Illya. Illya had crossed his arms and was still glaring at Napoleon, gritting out, “Well done, Cowboy, now the director thinks we’re fucking.”

Napoleon looked almost wounded. “Come now, is that such a terrible thing, Peril?”

Apparently so, because Illya said nothing and strode away from Napoleon and towards the set.

While waiting for the next scene to be set up, Napoleon mulled the return of Illya’s frostiness. Surely offering to help someone with an injury was a sign of camaraderie, or was that merely guilt at how the injury had been sustained?

Or maybe Illya was just very offended at the assumption that he was involved with Napoleon. Maybe Napoleon should take that as a sign that Illya just didn’t swing that way. None of those options were very optimistic.

 

* * *

 

Napoleon was glancing at Illya every now and then with an expression like a kicked puppy.

Despite his alleged debauchery off-set, Napoleon was impeccably behaved when he was in the zone. Illya could tell, by the way he hung onto Waverly's every word and the way he came prepared with suggestions and alternatives, that he truly owned each role he was playing. His effort showed in his filmography - rom-com Napoleon, for example, had been virtually unrecognisable from soldier Napoleon.

It was a pity they were back to square one, Illya reflected, mostly because of Napoleon’s inadvertent but unfortunate choice of words.

Illya was acutely aware that Waverly had chosen him on the strength of his audition, and very little else. He needed to be taken seriously. It would reflect terribly on him if he made (or was assumed to make) the amateur mistake of falling into bed with Napoleon Solo, oft-rumoured playboy. That way madness lies. Illya needed to keep things professional.

On a personal level, he didn’t want to be flavour of the week. To be used and discarded. He didn’t want to be a name on a list, a line in a blind item, a mere statistic among all the times ‘Napoleon Solo was here’.

He caught himself before his thoughts could spiral out of control.

Fine then, if those were the cards he was dealt, he could still prove himself as a serious actor. That way, he could earn Napoleon’s professional respect and perhaps, in time, friendship. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from Halsey's 'I Walk The Line' which is a Johnny Cash cover.  
>  
> 
> Notes:
> 
> 1\. Film production involves a lot of waiting around.  
> That's partly why actors develop habits like smoking. 
> 
> 2\. For those who don't know, a blind item is a piece of celebrity gossip which hints at the identities of those involved without revealing their names explicitly, sometimes because of the threat of lawsuits.  
> I went looking for blind items as tangential research for this fic and I got so disillusioned with the world of celebrity, and the invasiveness of paparazzi and gossip columns, that I almost wanted to finish this chapter another day. Or that may be the sleep deprivation talking.


	6. you’re spilling like an overflowing sink

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Contains Gaby Teller.

Napoleon was counting the days until Gabrielle Teller, just ‘Gaby’ to Napoleon, would be joining them in Rome. The script called for a love interest for Hank William, and Napoleon was glad that Gaby had been chosen for the part.

He’d worked with Gaby before and liked her no-nonsense on-set persona and goofy off-set attitude. They hadn’t seen each other in a while because of their differing schedules, but he was sure she would be easier to get along with than Illya.

Since that disastrous conversation Waverly had overheard, Illya had sought to spend as little time in Napoleon’s company as possible, holing himself up in his trailer whenever he wasn’t strictly needed. Illya was as intense as ever when the cameras were rolling, and he and Napoleon were adapting well to each other on-screen, but he always managed to extricate himself politely from whatever conversation Napoleon tried to strike up.

It got to a point where Napoleon had to painstakingly write out his detailed thoughts about how he would approach specific scenes to slip under the door of Illya’s trailer rather than discuss it like normal human beings.

At least Waverly wasn’t at their throats anymore, though he did side-eye Napoleon disapprovingly whenever he saw Illya walk away right after a scene.

It was unfair, Napoleon thought, that everyone thought he was the problem here.

 

* * *

 

Another scene was done, without a hitch. Illya was about to walk back to his trailer when a yellow blur ran past him, shouting, “Napoleooooon!” 

A girl in a bright yellow sundress launched herself into Napoleon’s arms. Napoleon hugged her tightly back, and then he lifted her clear off the ground, spinning her about. Both their expressions radiated joy.

The girl was beautiful, her delicate features set off by a healthy tan and her loosely braided hair looking casually elegant.

“I’ve missed you, Napoleon.”

“Me too, darling.”

Illya almost had to look away. At least he wouldn’t be the only option on the menu now. The thought was like bile in his throat.

 

* * *

 

Napoleon and Gaby went to dinner that night at a hole in the wall restaurant that made a mean _coda alla vaccinara_ and where the pasta was, as is often the case in Rome, perfectly _al dente_. 

"Soooo, Napoleon. How is it working with that tall drink of water I saw on set?"

"He's hot as hell, but cold as a Russian winter," Napoleon sniffed.

"Aw, Napoleon, I'm sure he'll come around. I hated you for the first two weeks I met you, remember? Seriously speaking though, I wish you'd find someone for keeps and stop trying to screw anything that moves."

Napoleon said nothing and stared intently at his fettucine.

Leaving behind the topic of Napoleon's love life, the wine and conversation flowed freely, and before long, Napoleon was seriously considering carrying Gaby in a fireman's lift just to get her safely into a cab.

* * *

 

They weren't particularly careful with avoiding photographers, because they had nothing to hide.

Two days later, there were pictures of them in the local gossip magazine. Gaby's head was on Napoleon's shoulder; Napoleon's arm was tight around Gaby. The headline speculated whether this was one of Napoleon's short-lived romances.

Illya was ducking into a convenience store when he saw it, and he almost bought it just for the satisfaction of shredding the offending pages in the privacy of his hotel room.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from Halsey's 'Colors'.
> 
> Notes:  
> 1\. _Coda alla vaccinara_ is Roman oxtail stew.


	7. [PLAYLIST ON 8TRACKS]

**Author's note:**

I haven't forgotten about this fic - just been busy in real life. I do aim to develop this story further - if anyone wants to suggest what they want to read, comment and I'll see what I can do! :D

I'm making an 8tracks playlist/fanmix to go along with this fic, with excerpts of lyrics:

[[LISTEN HERE](http://8tracks.com/kris___l/we-will-stumble-through-heaven-napollya)]

The idea is that I'll add more music as I develop the story. It's dominated by Halsey tracks and quite a few Imagine Dragons tracks at the moment.

I hope it's an enjoyable listen.

**Author's Note:**

> Rating is reflective of the current status of the fic and may be updated when necessary.
> 
> Title from Halsey's 'Young God'.
> 
> Chapter titles from Halsey lyrics.
> 
> Partly inspired by Mad_Lori's masterful 'Performance in a Leading Role' in the BBC Sherlock fandom. I have tried my best not to be too derivative - it's been ages since I read that fic.
> 
> Tumblr reblog: http://eastwssh.tumblr.com/post/130442547122/stumblethroughheaven
> 
> 8tracks playlist/fanmix: http://8tracks.com/kris___l/we-will-stumble-through-heaven-napollya


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